Lord of the Flies AE
by The Akashain
Summary: As the original Lord of the Flies ended with one of the greatest scenes from any classic novel created in recent memory, but it was followed by the final few anticlimactic paragraphs that ruined everything. So what if we could go back, back to right before the jungle chase scene, and do it all again? Well, it would look something like this...


Ralph wormed his way through the dense, dark thicket, inching his way towards the forest, remaining as deep under the smoke as humanly possible. The smoke cleared as he reached the edge of the thicket, leading to an open space of sharp rock and grass, no more than a few meters in length, and in the center of this clearing was a smallish savage, wearing a lighter grey shade of clay to mask his face, standing as Ralph's first obstacle. The petite boy wielded a moderately sharpened spear, but this spear was next to useless for him, being too large, and as the boy was coughing as if he had pneumonia, due to smoke inhalation.

Energy began to surge through Ralph, seeing this as his one, and perhaps only, chance to escape the prison of a thicket that was being engulfed with bright red flames, while avoiding the terror that was Jack and his band of savages. Ralph moved into position and prepared to launch himself towards the young guard. His muscles tensed, he held his breath and pushed himself forward, lunging towards the boy with as much speed and fury as he could manage. The boy barely had a moment to open his eyes before Ralph was on top of him. The two crashed to the ground, the boy's head hitting the rocky ground like glass smashing on ceramic tile. A shriek of pain escaped his lips as Ralph grabbed the light spear, feeling a crack form in it from the collision, as he begun his mad dash towards the forest, hearing a group of savages begin their ululation to signify the commencing of the manhunt, and to show that Ralph had already been spotted nearby.

The bush of the jungle shattered open as Ralph came crashing through it, feeling the dark, dry leaves scrape against his rough face while the smaller animals began to scurry away from him in fear. A large crack, followed by a yelp of pain, was heard behind him as his pursuers began to attempt to cross into the bush in pursuit. Ralph continued his sprint, the leaves crunching beneath his feet, through the all-encompassing shadows under the towering trees that loomed above, blocking out the light. Ralph, in his panic, barely managed to duck under a branch that was aimed to strike him directly in the forehead. He pulled it back, letting go once he reached the limit of his pull. The branch snapped back, colliding with something behind him. Ralph glanced back, seeing a savage covered in what once was a smooth green face paint writhing on the jungle floor behind him, a crimson red gash going diagonally across his once lush disguise. A sigh of relief escaped Ralph's lips as he continued forward, hoping to gain some distance in this faithless run.

Before he could even look forward, Ralph felt his foot get caught on something arching below him, sending him stumbling down to the green, bushy ground below. The leaves, softer and smoother in this area, almost swallowed him whole in their web of stems and paper-like frond. He prepared his sweaty, malnourished body for continuing his personal pig run, when a large crunching sound came echoing from behind him. Ralph froze, his body paralyzed in terror of what was coming. His thoughts raced in his head, trying to think of a way to hide, to run, to escape. His surroundings weren't of much help, what wasn't obscured by the hellish trap of a bush that he had fallen into was only a heap of different shades of green or brown, with the occasional animal crossing the path.

He calmed his heaving lungs, trying desperately to find out what to do. If only he had time to think! Instead of listening to his chest compress within him, maybe he could escape! He looked around once more, maybe he could climb a tree, hide in a deeper bush, or even just run, anything different than lying on his all-natural deathbed. He heard another crunch, then another, and another, but they weren't getting closer or further, they were stuck, seemingly in once spot. A loud, panicked wail came ringing through from no more than one hundred meters behind him. This was his moment, he could make some progress.

A sudden energizing heat came through him like a wave, concentrated in his legs. The pain in his chest subdued as he launched off, running forward again, using his time to gain distance and think out a plan of escape. The smaller thistles all around him cleared their way around his feet, as if they were as terrified of him as if he was one of the savages. He kept running, the stinging in his eyes turning to tears, the scratches on his body turning to cuts, the jungle morphing around him into different globules of shapes, but all still the same. This was, until what looked to be a wall formed in front of him. Was this it? A form of escape? Or at least a spot to hide? Or was there danger behind?

Ralph's mind screamed at him that all he could encounter was pain past this barrier, pleading for him to find another path, and he even slowed until another shriek came ringing through his ears. He didn't have the time to hesitate, this was run or die. He sprinted at full speed through the wall of vines and bushes in front of him, crashing through it as if it was nothing but paper mache from back in England.

The heat of a midday sun suddenly beat down on Ralph's head as a blinding light entered his eyes, blocking out all shapes and colors that were once available. A strong sense of rot invaded his nostrils as his eyes began to adjust to the sudden blazing inferno overhead, interrupting his view. He began to pick out the shapes around him, looking about as if his head was connected to his body by only a spring, eyes darting to anything and everything he could use to hide or escape. That's when he caught sight of it. Amongst the tall grass, the bushes of wild berries, the flowers and sprouting saplings encircling him, was a set of smaller, jagged rocks, and jammed into the center of it all was a pig's skull, its once present flesh pierced into a double pointed stick.

The once sky blue eyes, tainted by what they have seen, locked onto this head in the late states of decay, with all manners of flies clinging to what remained of it, as it smiled a wide, toothy grin directly in Ralph's direction. Ralph stared into its eye sockets, into its ecstatic grin, while it stared back, almost examining him, testing him. The desire to look away grew in Ralph, to escape the piercing gaze of the disembodied remains of what looked to be Jack's latest hunt. But no matter how much he wanted to, Ralph couldn't look away, he couldn't turn and continue. This thing, this monster, the representation of everything that ruined their chances of survival, destroyed the tribe, and killed Simon, along with Piggy, was staring at him, testing him, grinning wildly at his failure.

Anger, an almost primal rage, began to fester within Ralph. After all, who was this pig to smile at Ralph after all he went through, to laugh at his misery. He took a step forward, gripping his spear tightly as if he was face to face with Jack himself. He inched his way forward, towards the skull, a growl forming in his throat, like a lion stalking its prey, a tiger ready to pounce, he moved forward, the fury growing within him. The inches turned into feet, his walk turned into a run, and then a sprint, he charged the skull, still grinning at him as much as before, laughing at Ralph even now. He raised his spear, now before the skull, he smashed it over the cranium, breaking the stick with his force, and cracking the skull down the center at the same time.

He watched as the two halves fell, both rolling down either side of the rock cluster, landing on the ground, the broken ends facing each other. Ralph grabbed the stick in the rocks and yanked it out, his new weapon firmly in hand, as he prepared to go.

"Now, why did you do that?" A familiar voice echoed in Ralph's head and through the opening around him. "Look, you only made the smile wider."

"W-what?" The words stuttered out of Ralph's mouth as he turned and looked at the skull, it's joyous grin now spread multiple feet across the clearing.

"Poor Ralph, can't even take the smile off of someone's face. And you thought you could run a full village of boys?" The voice breathed across the clearing.

"Who's there? Get on out here!" Ralph demanded, uncomfortably turning about the grass below him, preparing his spear as he tried to locate the voice.

The voice began to grow louder, "you can't build a shelter, you can't hunt a pig, you can't even keep a simple fire going! What makes you think you're fit to be a leader?"

Ralph's voice cracked slightly, "I was voted chief, I ought to be!"

The voice grew ever closer, "what kind of chief loses an entire tribe? What kind of chief allows someone like Jack to gain power?" The voice began whispering in his ear, "what kind of chief can't even protect his people? Even kills his own people? What kind of chief would kill me?" Just as the question was posed, the voice faded away, not letting Ralph even think of a reply. Ralph looked around, trying to see where it came from, or even better, where it went.

He examined the ground and the trees surrounding him, keeping his spear at the ready, finding nothing but small animals in his tracks. He stopped to think about what the voice had said, but he got no more than a second of thought in before a rustling came from the tree line from where he came originally.

"Oh no," Ralph blurted out as a savage, wearing green face paint stripped with a diagonal red gash, burst out from the bush, short spear at the ready, charging Ralph as if it was the last thing he would ever do. Ralph only had enough time to turn and begin running, feeling the tip of the spear graze his exposed back as the savage stumbled over some remains of the skull, falling to the ground. Ralph began to sprint, away from the location, through the bush furthest from where the savage emerged, running through branch and sapling alike, beginning another mad dash for his life.

His feet moved as fast as humanly possible, leaping over rocks, roots, and branches, his arms either forcing the jungle away from his bleeding face, or gripping the spear as if it was the last thing he had to place his hopes on. Running through the undergrowth of the jungle, tearing up smaller plants and spots smaller animals once called home, nearly avoiding the limbs of the trees, outstretched in a desperate attempt to catch him, Ralph ran, breaking for nothing. His limbs ached, as if they were already stabbed by his pursuers, and his vision went hazy from exhaustion. The bushes blurred to a blob of green and brown, turning into an American camouflage all around him.

He ran until suddenly, the camouflage stopped, replaced by a thick line of shades of brown in front of him. He rubbed his eyes and attempted to breathe, hoping to regain his vision of the area, along with the functionality of his body. He removed his hands, grasping the spear once more as he examined the area around him. There were spots of a crimson red along the brown, muddy ground, and ancient tracks of both boy and pig from a chase long ago, with tall trees and bush on either side of the trail, leading off deeper into the jungle. He had come upon a pig trail, where he and Jack, once allies, had hunted together.

The crunch of leaves came loudly behind him, he dived, just as quickly as the sound had come, for what looked to be the thickest bush around him, allowing the leaves to enclose him once more as he watched, waiting to see who was nearing his position. That's when he finally saw it, not one, but two young boys came breathlessly stumbling from the bush where he just was, both of them sent tumbling to the ground at the sudden ceasing of jungle and commencing of flat land. Ralph took a closer look from his bush, through the hastily applied clay and dark paint he could see who they were, both Sam and Eric, as much of savages as the rest, were lying there on the ground in front of them, slowly rising from their embarrassing fall and examining where Ralph could have gone next.

Ralph's eyes narrowed, his breathing calmed as his grip of the spear tightened. He watched intently as they looked around for tracks, briefly whispering to each other before searching once again.

"Look how they betrayed you." A voice, different than the last, began flowing through Ralph. "They stand here, hunting the one who once protected them."

Ralph felt another growl in his throat, unable to lose focus on the two in front of him, feeling nothing but anger towards those traitors he once called friends. A heat, a rage, rose inside of him, clouding his vision.

"Pity, they ain't even able to find no track on the ground of someone who leaped headstrong into a bloody bush. Now, what will you do with them?" The voice questioned Ralph, a sense of disappointment with each word it spoke. "I say ya kill them, or at least one."

Ralph felt his anger grow, he began breathing deeply, both listening to the voice and almost stalking the boys from where he was.

The voice spoke up again, "come on Ralph, look at them, they betrayed you, but yet they can't even stand on their own feet. Just put them out of their misery."

Ralph felt himself twitch, seeing the boys begin to walk down the trail, side by side, towards the mountain. He prepared himself to begin sprinting, grasping the spear so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and putting him dominant foot in front of him.

"Just do it Ralph!" The voice almost shouted, while staying a whisper. And without even a second thought, he began to run, going up to no less than a dash towards the two, spear in the air, a loud wail emitting from his dry, arid throat. The two didn't even manage to turn around before Ralph was on top of them.

A force was felt against Ralph's spear as forced its way into something in front of him, something he could not see. A hushed gasp came from where he struck, his spear slowly dropping to the ground along with the mass he had stabbed. He stood there, frozen in place. As his eyes began to focus he heard a bloodcurdling scream from no more than a foot to his left. A scream so loud that he almost had to plug his ears in fear they would burst. He looked down in horror at where we was, below him was the now lifeless body of eric. The boy, only a small twelve year old, laid there, a wooden stick emerging from his back, leaving a deep red hole around it, spreading blood all over the area around him.

No sound came from Eric, but Sam produced enough for the both of them, his screams turning into cries, which became a noisy wail as he collapsed to the ground. His arms shook wildly as the tears streamed down his face and onto the ground below. Ralph watched, his heart beating as if he was having a heart attack, as the realization of what he had just done had struck him. He heard the voice return again, almost laughing.

"Congratulations! You just killed one of the only two people left on this island who actually liked you!"

The bright blue eyes of Ralph widened substantially, his entire body shook as his breath became staggered and weak. He took a step back, stumbling over the ground behind him, shaking his head slightly as he watched Sam crumple over the body of his other half. Listening to him sob without end, screaming for Eric to wake up, to say something, to simply survive. He took another step back, almost collapsing to the ground before looking down the trail and running. Running in fear, in sorrow, unable to face what he had done.

"Ralph, wait! I don't have the breath for this!" The voice shouted, almost pleading with him.

Even with this shouting, Ralph ran, sprinting down the trail, tears welling up in his eyes as he heard the cries of Sam grow ever quieter behind him. He did the only thing he could do, run, escape, escape his problems, escape the consequences, escape himself. He ran towards the mountain, towards the only place he knew was safe, away from everything. Ralph ran because it was the only thing he knew how to do, and the only thing he had left.

Minutes later, coming on to what felt like a half hour, and many narrowly avoided collisions with wild and plantlife, Ralph came upon one of the first areas of which they explored, an area of what once was hope and confidence, now only disappointment and regret, the mountain. The tallest area of the entire island, towering over them like skyscrapers to buildings, covered in an almost unpredictable mixture of grey and orange, sometimes mixing together to form a dull brown, and shielded by both sharp and smooth stone alike. And at the base of this mountain was a small boy, his eyes cracked and dirtied from the constant running through the harsh jungle, with fresh blood splattered across the length of his limbs. Ralph stood there, his legs ever so shaky and increasingly unstable that he felt himself collapse onto the rock below as quickly as he arrived, his tired, excruciatingly pained body lying sprawled over the jagged, loose rocks.

Somehow, eventually the husk of a boy managed to pull himself up, bruises and cuts lamenting his body from where the rocks punctured his overcooked skin. He semi-limped his way up the spiraling incline of the mountain, barely dragging himself over ledges or other such areas that required the use climbing, his arms almost entirely refusing to work on his behalf. Only a quarter of the ways up he felt a dizziness come on him, one that lasted the rest of the climb, making him feel both ill, and as if he could succumb to his exhaustion. But still he pressured on, there had to be something up there, he knew it.

At half a ways up he noticed a pile of rocks blocking his path, too close to the edge for him to safely climb. With his remaining strength he took his bloodied, damaged spear, lightly forcing it into the rock pile, and pushing. When it didn't move, he repeated this, again and again, trying desperately to get these rocks out of the way with all the strength he could muster. After a few attempts the pile of smoother, solid grey rocks was finally sent down the mountain, but not without taking Ralph's spear with it, his last source of protection gone. Ralph looked forward and continued his arduous crawl up the mountain, feeling how dry his mouth was, as if he spent the day eating nothing by sandpaper with no drinks.

Upon reaching the top Ralph hit the ground once again, this time on something different, a pile of leaves and grass, all browning and some even turned black, unburned and stored for fuel just weeks previous. In front of the pile was the coal-black ashes of signals past, a sign of what the group had lost, their last piece of humanity. From his decaying pile, Ralph eyed the fire, feeling nothing but disappointment in himself at the failure he once called a tribe. But there was something different, be that someone different, on the other side of the pile of ash and burned remains, was a smallish boy, staring at the ash, occasionally looking over at Ralph and back at the fire.

Ralph felt heat flood over his body as he struggled his way to standing. Once he stood he could clearly see the boy. Across from him, now eying him like a hawk, was Simon, simply standing there, watching.

Ralph coughed and felt his throat almost catch fire as he tried to speak, "Simon?" He asked, his voice almost entirely masked by raspiness.

Simon didn't reply, instead he leaned down with a sigh and picked up what looked to be the only stick on the mountain that remained unburned. It was long, and looked tougher than anything else Ralph had seen, and with that, it was sharp, like a needle at the point.

Ralph coughed again before speaking. "Simon? What are you doing?" He questioned another time, a slight amount of panic in his voice.

A grin spread over Simon's face, this time he raised the spear, almost the same as Ralph had done when attacking Eric. Ralph's mind finally clicked in, he knew what would happen next, Simon was going to charge. It was as soon as he realized what was happening, his thoughts began to race, and Simon ran at him at full speed, charging him, intent to kill.

Ralph, finally understanding his situation, moved just in time. Narrowly avoiding the deadly tip of the spear, attempting to grab it from Simon. His grab quickly devolved into a close quarters brawl, Simon and Ralph fighting over a simple stick, Simon with the clear advantage, as they tried to stab each other at every chance they had. The two moved around the mountain top, the spear brutally scraping Ralph's side, while Simon seemed untouched, no matter how much Ralph was able to hit him. Ralph felt his body begin to weaken again, he didn't have the strength remaining for the fight. And as he was about to break, something else broke, below him to be specific, the ground gave in.

The two began to fall, both tumbling out of control down the pointed rocks of the hazardously sloped mountain. Ralph felt something in him snap on the way down, he cried out in pain as he continued towards the jungle floor, unable to stop. Somewhere along the way he blacked out, everything he could see turning to nothing but absolute darkness before him.

It wasn't until he hit the jungle floor in which he opened his eyes again. An unknown amount of time had passed, the one blistering hot day, with the sun directly overhead, turned into a humid sunset in what felt like minutes to Ralph. He looked around, his body still asleep, refusing to move. Once his eyes began to fully awake, he noticed what ended of his almost forgotten battle. Lying in front of him, with a spear emerging from where it's heart once was, and a puddle of red surrounding it, was the broken and beaten body of Roger, eyes wide open, dead before he hit the ground. Leaving Ralph hopelessly confused as to what really happened on top of the mountain.

Ralph began his futile attempt to stand, to keep progressing. He placed one arm on the ground, palm down, and then the other, from here he started to lift himself up onto his feet again. But as he attempted to regain his stance, an almost electric pain charged up his right arm and into his torso, causing him to call out in agony and fall to the ground again. He lid there, the last of his bodily water welling up in his eyes as he attempted to calm down from the suffering. He heard the sounds of the jungle. Occasional skittering and other forms of movement, a slight breeze had formed, going harmoniously with the sounds of the ocean. And in the distance, a slight crackling could be heard.

Minutes passed before he could stand again. He looked over at the mutilated body of Roger, lying near him. Then at the jungle once again, the beginning of the end. From here he finally attempted to stand again, rolling over his left side and sitting up, before finally using his left arm to help stand, his entire body trembling and quivering from the strain, each nerve burning like a fire within him. He grasped his right arm where it hurt the least, and from here he began walking. Walking to the only opening he could see.

From his point standing, he could finally see where he was. The area he was in was long and moderately narrow, everything looked as if it was hit by one of the worst storms in the history of this island. Where he stood was the scar, where it all began. The scent of salt water struck his nose like a plane crash. He was back where everything happened, the beach. He continued to walk, attempting to step over or around the series of cracked stumps and broken wooden remains of past trees. Looking up to see where he was going, a crack in the trees, the entrance to his past village.

At the entrance stood someone, someone familiar. He looked wider from the back angle view Ralph had, as if he never indulged in sports, instead choosing the freedom of books and relaxation. The boy turned and faced Ralph, his chubby cheeks and warm complexion smiled down on him, while the half broken glasses showed who exactly it was, standing there was Piggy, waiting for Ralph.

A sadness grew in Ralph, the tears of pain from earlier began to run down his face. "I'm sorry" Ralph whimpered, "I'm sorry, Piggy."

He continued to walk forward as Piggy looked on at him, face unchanging, smiling at Ralph, but his eyes overpowered with a look of sorrow. Ralph repeated himself over and over, running out of water to leave his eyes, but still whimpering and sniveling, before making it to Piggy.

Ralph reached out to lay a hand on him, who's eyes of sorrow turned into pity. But as his hand touched, Piggy disappeared, almost floating off into the wind once again. And what was in front of Ralph was a sight worse than that he had ever seen. He stopped, frozen, looking on at what remained of the village.

The three poorly constructed huts no longer stood, now burned to as much ash as the past signal fire of the mountain. And along with this, burned husks, looking like small bodies, littered the entire ground of the beach, almost freshly burned.

"The littluns," Ralph whispered in disbelief, "no…"

He stepped forward again, only barely noticing the fire growing around him, consuming the jungle in which he once stood. He moved at a crawling pace, towards the village, eyes widened further than one would think humanly possible. The smell of ash began to overpower the once beautiful ocean breeze, a taste of metal formed in Ralph's mouth as he felt himself fall to the ground, now kneeling. He continued to stare at the remains of the village, unable to process what he had seen.

Faintly, Ralph could hear chanting.

"Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Bash him in!"

Ralph didn't move, he stayed where he was, in almost a trance. He turned enough to see the incoming party, what was coming towards him. A group of savages, led by Jack, forcefully thrusting a spear into the air, with Sam striding next to him, making no forms of celebratory moves, with his grey face paint now changed to red, marched towards Ralph. But still, Ralph stayed put.

The group surrounded the remains of the village in a misshapen circle, including Ralph in their human snare. Their chant turned from a dull roar into a deafening cry.

"Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Bash him in!"

Jack walked forward, standing in front of Ralph. In return, Ralph looked upwards at Jack, feeling only regret and anger flow through what remained in his veins. Jack grabbed Ralph by the hair, tugging it roughly towards him. A wild grin spread across his face, as his eyes seemed almost wild in nature, gone mad.

The chanting continued. Jack, still forcefully tugging on Ralph's hair, began to take out his rusted pocket knife. Ralph continued to watch, doing nothing in retaliation, looking utterly defeated.

The knife was held to Ralph's throat as Jack looked around at the group before looking back to Ralph. The jungle burning around them, with the smell of ash being all that filled the nostrils of the boys, and dead bodies wherever the eye could see.

"Who's the beast now?" Ralph coughed out of his broken body, and right after doing so, everything around him turned to black.


End file.
